Detention with Dolores
by AlwaysPadfoot
Summary: Hannah Abbott breaks Educational Decree Number Forty-One and ends up in detention, where she finds out just how Umbridge's punishments work.


**Detention with Dolores**  
**AlwaysPadfoot**

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_**Nosebleed Nougat**__: Used to escape Umbridge's lessons. Write about the fifth year or about someone escaping something by faking an illness._

**_WRITTEN IN A WORD WAR with Ralinde_**

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"Dentention, Miss Abbott."

Where the hell did she come from? Susan, Justin, Ernie and I whirled around in unison to come face to face with Umbridge. We all stood taller than her, but even I stepped back in fear as she approached wand in hand like we were some sort of threat. Why the hell had she given me detention? What had I done that no one else had?

"Why?"

"You are in direct violation of Educational Decree Number Fourty-One," she answered with a grin.

"Not another one," Susan breathed from behind me.

"What's Educational Decree Number Fourty-One?!"

I tried hard to keep the anger out of my voice, she truly was taking the High Inquistor Post way too seriously and she was slowly destroying Hogwarts as she did. I swear she had Educational Decree's coming out of her arse too.

"Educational Decree Number Fourty-One explicitly declares that students discussing the upsetting events of last year are to immediately be placed in detention," she told us.

"You have to be bloody kidding me," I barely managed to choke out my words. She was putting me in detention for talking about last year's Triwizard Tournament, I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. I just stared at her, we'd all been talking about it so what the hell had I been targeted? She made a noise of disgust.

"I most certainly am not joking, Miss Abbott. Tonight, seven o'clock in my office."

Without another word she turned away and as soon as that nasty coloured pink cardigan was out of sight I turned miserably back to my friends, who all looked somewhat embarrassed, because they hadn't spoken up to say they'd been talking about it too, and confused, because I'd just been a victim of what we call Umbitches Specific Targetting System.

"What the hell just happened?"

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Later that night I found myself sulkily heading up to the Defence corridor for my Detention with Umbridge, it was still beyond me why she'd given me detention. It made no sense, we couldn't just forget about the Triwizard, we couldn't just forget about Cedric. He was after all a Hogwarts Champion, a Prefect, a ear to listen when you needed to talk to someone. He was probably the most caring person in our house, a role model really and last year he'd been murdered.

It had affected us all.

Eventually, I summoned the courage to knock on Umbridge's office door, "Come in."

When I got inside, I was vaguely disturbed by the amount of kittens on plates she had up on her wall, with one raised eyebrow I glanced around the room in disgust. With one of those nasty, attention seeking coughs she caught my attention, beckoning me over to sit at a table in front of her own desk. Reluctantly I sat down, dropping my bag at the side of the chair and trying not to scowl in my annoyance.

"Today, Miss Abbott, you'll be doing some lines for me," she told me. Without saying a word, I reached down to retrieve my own quill from my bag, but her hand grabbed out at my arm stopping me. I met her eyes momentarily, and after a second I pulled my arm out of her grasp.

"Oh no, Miss Abbott, you'll be using a rather special one of mine."

I shrugged, what did it matter? Lines were lines, no matter what quill I used. She handed me a black quill and no ink. Thinking it would be somewhat amusing I didn't press for any ink; I simply stared at her, waiting for my line.

"The line I want you to write is: I must respect my superiors," she said. I ground my teeth together in irritation and took a deep breath.

"How many?"

"As many as it takes."

As she turned back to her desk I rolled my eyes and put the quill to my parchment. Where I expected there to be no ink, there was, and it was blood red in colour. I stared at the paper for a long while before I wrote out the next line. Gradually, as I wrote the line over and over, it carved itself into the back of my left hand.

Shit.

She was using a blood quill.


End file.
